Made For This
by PennyForTheGuy
Summary: A veteran schemer never just has one ace in the hole, he has as many as he can manage, and then a dozen more. In preparation for any unlikely defeat an ancient trickster once called a god makes a deal with a young man visiting Germany. Absolute security, never out of work, never worrying about welfare for himself or his family, in return for a little tampering with DNA.
1. Prolouge

A cool spring night should be soothing, a perfect slight breeze, soft rustling of trees and the air full of the scent of earth, pollen, and fresh life. Stuttgart was quiet and lovely and full of pleasing vistas. But strolling through the bright streets wasn't calming Glen's heart one bit. He was supposed to be enjoying his honeymoon with his wife, and yet here he had to leave her alone almost every night to keep his panic attacks under control.

He was panicking over the tiniest thoughts since the day after the wedding. His job was hanging by a thread and he was fairly sure he hadn't been laid off yet because of his marriage coming up (and he'd invited several of his supervisors). When he was laid off, what the hell were he and Hannah going to do? They wouldn't be able to afford the new house; even this honeymoon was more than they should have done. He wasn't even sure they'd be able to keep the car going. Glen really wished he'd pushed a little harder on postponing the wedding.

As he walked he quickened his pace and sunk into a haze, unaware of everything around him till he nearly barreled into another man. It scared the crap out of Glen and he did a little fluster dance before getting enough of a hold to stammer an apology.

"Careful there, nearly knocked us both over." The other man said before he could get a word out.

"I'm sorry sir, wasn't paying attention."

"I could tell, I saw you coming but I thought for sure you'd see me." Glen instinctively recoiled a bit from that overly smooth accent. The man sounded like a salesman, and now that he wasn't staring at the ground, he could see he kind of looked like one too.

This man's hair was slicked back, he was dressed in a very expensive looking black camel coat and foppish green and gold scarf, and he smiled like a crossroads demon.

"I'm sorry again, have a good night, please excuse me." Glen pushed past him but barely got two steps before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait now, what's got you so tense? A tourist should be having a good time."

"I..how…" for moment he wondered how the guy knew that but then stopped to think, American in Stuttgart, duh.

"I…don't feel quite comfortable talking about it with a stranger, so just leave me be, alright?"

"What, and let you wallow in worry? How will you ever enjoy your sojourn then?"

Glen raised an eyebrow. Sojourn? Fucking brits.

"Well since you seem so good at guessing, what do you think is bothering me?" This guy was getting under Glen's skin fast, helped a great deal by his already agitated emotions. The guy stared at him with a grin on his lips, tapping a gold… a gold cane? He noticed not only was it gold, it had some kind of blue LED light in the handle. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

"Your new wife must be worried." He finally said.

Now Glen was starting to get scared.

"How the hell…did you figure that out?"

"The green on your skin, around your wedding band is quite tell-tale."

Glen growled and looked at his hand. The band was slipping up and down his finger and leaving a good mark on it, again. He muttered and rubbed his finger.

"I'm sorry?" the salesman leaned forward, staring at him in a way that made him squirm inside.

"I was saying, I didn't skimp on her ring, why'd I do it on mine?"

"Never hurts to save money."

Now he said something Glen could agree with.

"No, but embarrassment is not really worth what I saved."

"Having trouble with money?" the guy started taking leisurely steps around him.

"Who isn't these days?"

The man chuckled.

"Quite true. I've noticed that the real secret is security. If you can find security, stability and wealth will follow."

"And how does one find that?"

"Well for everyone its different, but I know just how you're going to get security."

"Oh?"

The man stopped in front of him and dropped his smile. Glen suddenly felt very exposed, the wind had died, there was no sound from any living thing except his and the man's breathing. This salesman stared him down with hungry, deadly serious eyes.

"You make a deal with me."

Glen cleared his throat, trying to force down the warble in his voice.

"What kind of deal?"

"I can guarantee you absolute stability. You will have security in whatever job you wish, money will never be wanting. Your table will always be full, for your entire life. You won't lose out on any benefit or opportunity. All in return for just one thing."

Glen smirked.

"My soul?"

The man burst out laughing, and actually doubled over for a moment.

"No, but I like that."

He quickly regained himself and stepped closer to Glen.

"No, all I want is a favor, nothing more."

Glen's eyebrow went up again, interest grew.

"That's all?"


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Glen hurried back to his hotel, still shaken. His hand itched like crazy and he was dying to get ice on it. What had that fucking bastard done to him? He hid his left hand in his sleeve as he came into the lobby and rushed past the desk to the elevators. He wanted to scratch his palm so bad but kept his right hand locked at his side. Finally he got to his floor and rushed down to his honeymoon suite. Hannah was fast asleep as he gingerly opened the door. The clock on the nightstand showed 1:23 as he tip toed over to the ice bucket.

She had filled it thankfully and he applied a cube to his hand, hissing as the burned flesh seared and cooperatively numbed. He whispered curses as he kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed. He barely made a dent but it was enough to wake his wife of one week.

"You're finally back," she brushed her long lashes and rolled over, "Do you feel better now?"

"Just fine," he said evenly, but she felt the tension in him as she rubbed his back.

"What's wrong?"

Glen dropped his head. She'd pester him until he gave a plausible answer.

"I…burned myself."

He turned around and showed her his palm. The flesh was angry, puffed up and red as beets. Hannah gasped and snatched the ice from his other hand, pressing it to the burn.

"How did this happen?"

Glen raced to find a decent answer.

"Stupid fall. I leaned against a bike and slipped, ended up trying to break it on the exhaust pipe, which it turned out was still hot."

"Really?" Hannah took the ice away from the burn. "That's… an odd pattern."

She turned on the light and now they both got a good look. The burn twisted around his palm, looking almost like an illuminated _S_. He shrugged it off.

"Its just a stupid burn, just me being my clumsy self, we shouldn't worry."

"I'm not the one who worries." Hannah gave him a look.

Right. She never seemed to worry about anything except her what departed mother would have thought of her. 29 years old and the woman still walked on air. At times he envied that. He ran he hand over her messy braided hair as she rubbed the ice over the burn. That mop of hair never quite behaved.

"We should find some ointment to put on this." She said.

"Leave it," he waved his good hand, "all the stores are closed, along with room service. No 24 hour convenience stores in Stuttgart."

"Yes there are." She made him hold the ice over his hand and got out of bed. Now he saw the sheer nightgown she'd put on, no doubt hoping his walk wouldn't take long. He felt like he'd only just remembered he was on his frickin' honeymoon. He dropped the ice in a glass and got up, grabbing Hannah around her tiny waist as she tried to put on jeans over her flimsy lingerie.

"My hand will keep till morning." He said, kissing her exposed shoulder.

"It'll be worse by morning," her tone wasn't chiding, rather concerned.

"It's not that bad, and besides, I've been terrible to you. We just got married and I'm letting you sleep alone at night."

Hannah turned around and let the pants puddle around her feet, running her hands over his back and then wiggling them under his coat and shirt.

"It hasn't been so bad, reminds me what sleep before snoring was like."

Her jab was meant to be playful but came out far more caustic, but he was used to that by now. He just kept kissing her, coaxing her out of that little piece of nothing and bringing her back to the bed.

All the worries that had been plaguing him had faded away, and as they made love the pain in his hand eased. He and his wife climaxed and relaxed in the plush bed, and for the first time in a long time he actually felt secure about his marriage; and his future.

The burn was gone by morning. No scarring, no weeping or chafing, it just healed up. Of course they thought it odd but they shrugged it off, why worry about a healed wound? They spent another day in Germany, then the last few days of the honeymoon in Amsterdam before flying home. Glen was thrilled to be home but Hannah was sure he was more happy to get back to work and fill up his paycheck after a week and a half off.

She missed Germany sorely for the first week, but soon fell back into the rhythm of day-to-day life. Glen seemed much happier since the trip, he wasn't worrying nearly as much any more and seemed he would also be keeping his job. She very much enjoyed this happy husband; he was as close to carefree as she'd ever seen. Hannah felt very good herself until about three weeks after they returned.

She worked in two restaurants as waitress and maitre'd, and she felt her stomach doing flips the moment she walked into the first one on Friday. The cooks were frying fish for the special and the stench of raw fish and shrimp combined with boiling frying oil mad her feel sick as a dog. She managed to keep it together and beat the nausea down over a cup of coffee but her second work was serving fish too, and she lost her cookies before going on shift.

She chalked it up to a bad day till the next morning when the crippling nausea returned. Glen fretted over her a bit and called her in sick, but she felt alright again before 11. She was perfectly fine until she tried to make dinner. Glen loved onions and she meant to make French onion soup and some baguettes but barely stopped herself from puking onto the onion the instant she cut it.

After she emptied her stomach Hannah sat in the little downstairs bathroom of their house, thinking hard and not quite wanting to think about what was likely going on. If she just told him when he came home he'd freak out. And she wasn't even sure. Hannah felt her chest tighten with anxiety for a few minutes, then she relaxed just a bit. Glen would say it was too soon if she really was…pregnant. But she loved children, she wanted to be a mother, and whether it was true or not, she was happy about it.

She decided to keep it to herself for now, get a test tomorrow after work, schedule a doctor's appointment and be a little more careful just in case. She got up, went back to the kitchen, threw out the offending onion and warmed up some chili instead. It didn't make her stomach turn but it sure did growl.

Hannah found out for sure a week and a half later, but the store bought test had confirmed it for her. She was expecting, and about three and half weeks along at the time of the test. Glen looked about to piss himself when she told him, he didn't quite believe it till she showed him the results. He was panic-stricken at first, but then loosened up. She could tell he was putting on a happy face for her right now but she knew he'd warm up to it. Glen just didn't like change.

All of the relatives that lived near their Savannah home began visiting all the time, doting on her, offering up names and advice. Hannah most certainly took on a glow as she progressed, once her belly started to grow her morning sickness went away. At two months she was up to have her first ultrasound. She was nearly beside herself with excitement but she could see worry written all over Glen's face as they drove to the doctor's office. He was probably worrying about what rare disease the doctor would catch in the procedure.

Hannah nearly giggled as the image of her child slowly appeared on the monitor. She was amazed how clearly she could see the baby, its head, its tiny arms and legs, she could even just make out the image of its heart beating away. The doctor however furrowed her brow.

"What's wrong?" Glen squeaked.

"Nothing," the doctor barely took her eyes away from the monitor, "that's just a large baby."

"Large? What do you mean by that?" he asked, still worried.

"I mean, that child shouldn't be that big, or…developed at this stage. I think we estimated the age of the fetus wrong. That's a four month old child."

"Is this bad?" Hannah asked, getting doe eyed at the thought of something actually being wrong.

"No, no, just a miscalculation our part, baby appears quite healthy." Her doctor smiled and it calmed Hannah's fears. The baby was just older than they thought, that's all.

Over the next month she felt her energy levels fall quickly. That baby was growing fast and seemed to suck up every spare drop of fuel she had. She made it to four and half months before she had to take maternity leave. Very odd for such a young pregnancy but her belly was swollen to the size of a beach ball and her legs and wrists followed suit.

She was so thankful to have many family members nearby or her house would have become an absolute dump, along with herself. The more the baby grew the more it somersaulted, stretched and kicked, oh how it kicked. The doctor said it was likely a girl but feeling that thing kick like a mad bull made her sure it was a boy. Glen was as sympathetic as she could wish for, but she could tell he was more than a little stunned by the sudden changes in her.

She wasn't the little waif-like woman he married. She'd hadn't gained much fat weight but the baby weight and swelling ballooned her out, her wheat-blonde hair was getting more and more neglected, her face redder and redder as struggled just move around the house.

Her appetite had exploded, and she often felt like she could never be full. Even after a huge meal she was still hungry and going through cabinets for nibbles, and her pregnancy cravings were odder than she ever expected. She wouldn't just crave meat, she'd long for a certain cut of venison. Not just eggs, but the whites, or yolks, she'd be drooling at the thought kale one day and longing for tangerine and salmon the next.

Glen did all he could satisfy these insane cravings but they often came and went faster than she could sate them. Hannah was on a variety of vitamin pills, as well a slight diet. The pills often helped quell her cravings and appetite, and the diet was meant to give both mother and child the best nutrition while avoiding harmful substances. Hannah didn't miss junk food or saltwater fish one bit, but did long after her morning coffee.

One morning, just into her six month, Hannah woke up in the wee hours to feel her baby slowly turning over. Not unusual for this active one, but just as she was falling back asleep, she felt a puddle start growing beneath her. Glen woke up to his wife screaming bloody murder and clutching her crotch and belly. Hannah thought she was having a miscarriage and that there was blood on the bed, until Glen shook her and made her look to see the fluid spilled was clear.

She calmed down enough for him to get her to the car and race to hospital. She came in crying for someone to save her baby. Through her cries Glen managed to tell them she was only six months along and should not be in labor not matter how big her stomach was. She was rushed into surgery for an emergency C-section and put under. When she woke up, her tears immediately began again. Hannah was convinced she'd lost her first child.

She kept blubbering, "What did I do wrong?" between sobs. Glen couldn't console her until a nurse wheeled a basinet in. Hannah abruptly stopped crying and looked at the woman, who simply nodded, then reached in and picked up a 9 lb, healthy baby.

Hannah's face lit up like the 4th of July and she eagerly took her baby, a girl just like the doctor had said, and held her as close and tight as she dared.

"Better now? Good." Glen heaved a huge sigh of relief and slumped into a chair.

"I was trying to tell you but you just wouldn't stop crying."

"Its all alright now." Hannah was speaking both to him and to their daughter. "I'm so happy she's here."

"I saw her come out. She screamed, you could hear her down the hall, and she grabbed the doctor's hand so hard he said the circulation was a little cut off. She's a strong one, she didn't want to go down easy."

"What's her name going to be, mommy?" the kindly old nurse asked, pen ready. Glen waved his hand when Hannah looked to him.

"Bailey." She said, shaking the tiny hand that popped out the blanket.

"Pretty name." the nurse said, scratching it out on a form.

"I'll be back in a bit for her, its technically not visiting hours and you both need your sleep."

"Take you time." Hannah called after her, already looking forward to the many years of doting and feeding and raising this little angel would need.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A first few weeks after Hannah got her daughter home, she quickly became curious about how she and her husband behaved when they were newborns. Bailey was behaving very badly, er… not quite. Hannah was still unsure why her child was acting out like this. For hours at a time Bailey would cry and scream and fuss and every attempt at comforting, changing or feeding her would be futile, then she would suddenly and inexplicably calm herself.

The mellow periods lasted about as long as her tantrums and Hannah tried to do as much as she could while the baby was so cooperative. When she was calm Bailey was a joy, always smiling and curious, nothing at all bothered her. When she melted down it was like trying wrangle a screaming, slippery fish, who threw things. Hannah couldn't quite get her head around it but when the baby hit three weeks old, she learned to grip and pick up things.

Her arm wasn't strong at all though a she could barely clear her own toes when she threw. So when a meltdown happened Hannah just cleared her harder toys away and keep an eye on her while Bailey cried. She didn't neglect the girl, she did all she could to calm the baby but nothing seemed to work when Bailey was in this mood. Glen didn't take well to Bailey's wild mood swings and started working later more often.

When Bailey was doing good he was a doting father, fascinated with every aspect of his daughter's growth. He even made a chart to pinned on the wall, with magnets for her first word, her first steps, the first time she hit a certain weight or height. The baby was hitting her weight markers fast. Now Hannah understood why she'd been so very hungry while pregnant. The little girl ate like a horse but never seemed to get chubby. She no doubt got that metabolism from her grandmother.

While feeding her Hannah would stroke her hand, hoping to keep her from melting down during her feeding. One day she noticed a light birthmark on the baby. It was large and she couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before, a big brown blot on the back of Bailey's left hand. When she hit six weeks old Hannah saw the mark was more distinct, taking a closer look she felt a chill rush down her spine.

Bailey's mark looked eerily similar to that odd burn Glen got on their honeymoon. A curling, illuminated S. It niggled at Hannah, and she brought it up at a doctor's visit only to be told it was a harmless birthmark. So she let it go but still bit her lip whenever she saw the mark. What the doctor said about the child bothered her more. Bailey was growing much too fast and her pediatrician had insisted on a strict diet.

Bailey started it at seven weeks, and the following meltdowns made not only her parents miserable, but every neighbor within a stone's throw. The baby always broke down when food was denied her and would cry for hours afterward. Hannah's precious girl was almost never happy but she was losing weight. To her mother's surprise she noticeably shrank within the first few days. By a week and a half Bailey was getting emaciated to her eyes, and noticeably losing strength.

Hannah threw out the doctor's orders and let Bailey eat more. Her moods improved, she got strong again and was quickly back to her beginning weight. Letting her eat as much as she wanted kept the baby happy and the house quiet, and Hannah still needed to rest before heading back to work and didn't want to get her neighbors any more angry at them. Glen actually spent a few nights at his office while Bailey was on her diet.

Even when she was back to her calm moods he cooled towards her. He was a bit reluctant to be around her, even to let Hannah cook undisturbed. He insisted on being in the room with the baby at least.

"She responds to you, not me. I'm not much use."

"You can keep an eye on her," Hannah would say, "And she does respond to you, but she can tell your scared of her, just relax around her and she'll do the same."

Three months after her premature birth, Bailey was huge but not fat. According to the doctor she was a healthy size for a child twice her age. The pediatrician was worried about the girl's rapid growth and referred Hannah to a specialist. Hannah was more worried about what her husband would say when she told him.

She told him when he got home, while she was changing Bailey into some more comfortable pj's for the evening.

"I, I don't quite understand, she said something is wrong?" he said, looking at the baby as if she could back her mother's story up. Hannah smiled at the humor and spoke softly.

"She said Bailey's growing fast, too fast. Look at her, she's healthy but she has a closet full of clothes she outgrew before she could even wear them. It might be something with her pituitary gland, and the specialist can do tests…"

"Tests?" Glen stammered, "Tests? Do you realize how serious this is? And if she keeps growing like this, what then? She can't go to school, you can't someone whose as big as a 10 year old in the first grade!"

Hannah furrowed her brow but kept her voice even, turning to face him.

"If it keeps up we can home school her, **I** can home school her. This is not crippling Glen. As long as Bailey is healthy, everything is fine."

"No, Hannah, that's just the thing, she's **not** healthy. Healthy children don't have something madly wrong in their brains!"

"Glen, you're over reacting, I know your worried about her but stop talking about your infant like she's crazy!"

Voices grew louder and louder and emotions pent up since Bailey's birth spilled over, the fight quickly escalated. Bailey lay on the changing table, watching her parents scream and yell and stomp about her nursery. She started crying, Hannah glanced over and wanted to rush straight to her but Glen refused to let her bury her attention in the baby.

He told her in no uncertain terms he was tired of everything being about the baby and all else, including their marriage being ignored. Bailey was screaming now but still no comfort came. The child looked over again to see her father looming over her mother. Her face flushed red and a small hand found an object, a plastic toy her mother let play with while changing.

She whipped it over the side of the table. With a normal child it might have just landed a few inches away from the base. Bailey managed to chuck it straight into the dry wall.

Glen and Hannah stopped dead silent when they heard the huge thud and the sound of dust falling to the floor. Looking behind them they saw the little red plastic ring, stuck three inches in the wall. Bailey lay on the opposite side, giggling, supremely amused by what she had done.

Glen blanched, all color drained from his cheeks in a second and he rushed out of the room. He brought his laptop into their guest room and refused to leave the whole night. Hannah felt panicked, she couldn't sleep all night wondering what Glen would do now. She got her answer the next morning. He came downstairs with a suitcase and said he would be staying with his old roommate to 'work things out'.

He left and she knew he would not be coming back.

Hannah depended a great deal on her family after he husband moved out in a flurry. She had to go back to work soon after and they gladly watched Bailey while she was out, at first. Her closest cousin took care of the infant for the first month, with no incident, until Bailey had one of her tantrums. Her cousin showed her the dents in the floor when she got home, along with those in the wall and toys bent out of shape and covered in tiny hand imprints. The woman had bruises up and down her arms from trying to hold Bailey while she was fussing.

After her cousin refused to be alone with the girl she tried to hire a sitter. The first was male and seemed to get along just fine with Bailey. But on the first day he called her in a panic. He said the baby throwing things at him, throwing them so hard he was scared she might punch holes in the walls. He quit the same day and she was forced to beg her mother to watch the girl till her shift was over.

Her grandmother had better luck when it came to handling Bailey when she had meltdowns. Hannah's mother was even better than she was at soothing the little spitfire. It was the baby's endless energy that made it difficult for her grandmother to watch her all day. Finally Hannah found a good combination. Her oldest niece and her mother would watch the baby while she worked. Her niece could keep up with Bailey and her grandmother's presence was a good balm.

Things got even tougher and stranger when Bailey was another month older. She perfected crawling finally and quickly conquered floors, stairs, chairs, shelves and cabinets alike. Before her birth Hannah and Glen had child-proofed the house but bailey was strong enough to simply pull the zip tie locks apart on most things. The only thing she couldn't figure out was the lock on the toilet, thankfully.

Bailey seemed to love tearing things open just to see if she could. She enjoyed her strength and made a great game of beating through baby gates or ruining the child locks, even destroying boxes and bags she found. If it could be taken apart she'd take it apart. She also developed some odd tactical fasciations. One time her grandmother found her in the kitchen rolling around in a pile of brown sugar like a cat in catnip. Newspaper entertained her, along with velvet. Her favorite cuddle toy became a velvet pillow filled with carded wool.

Up to eight months the little girl and her family did well. It was about that time though she started trying to find her voice and legs. Like most young children she had a broken volume control and whenever she tried to speak she absolutely had to scream.

Hannah was there to see Bailey's first steps and it was a great day for everyone to see this near toddler tip toe around, smiling and proud of herself but obviously (hilariously) paranoid of falling over. After the first few days it wasn't so cute. She started hopping and stomping everywhere, leaving dents and cracks in the every floor in the house. Trying to teach her to walk slowly didn't help. It got worse as weeks progressed. If she ran into a wall, the wall moved, not her. She took out both living room end tables in the space of a week.

Watching her became like watching a bull in a china shop. She broke several windows during meltdowns just from throwing things. Hannah was getting worn down to a nub trying to work and rein in this tornado of a child. Where on the good green earth was she getting this strength?

By now Bailey looked like she was creeping up on her second birthday rather than her first. One day Hannah was home and her daughter was playing quietly with her velvet pillow. Her mother was concentrating on budget balancing and vaguely saw that Bailey was staring out the window now. Cardinals were flitting about in the birdbath outside. Bailey had never seen the bright red birds before. She stood fascinated; then decided to catch one.

She ran right around to the back door and pounded on it, yelling her half- babbled speech. Hannah got up and sighed when she saw her.

"No Bailey, we were just outside. Come on now." She tried to shepherd Bailey back to the living room but Bailey stayed glued to the door.

"Please girl, no going outside."

Bailey stared at her mother, and looked back and forth between her and the door. She apparently decided the door was easier to deal with because in a blur she smashed into it and knocked it off the hinges. Hannah screamed and rushed through the new hole to find Bailey standing just a few feet away, in a slight daze. Hannah grabbed her and whipped her around, she appeared to be fine and just as she tried to scoop her up, Bailey giggled and squirmed out of her mother's arms and hopped to the birdbath. The cardinals had been scared shitless by the door and had taken refuge in the trees. Bailey chased them to from tree to tree in the yard, until they went to the next yard.

She then barreled through the wooden fence. Hannah watched all this in stunned horror, then finally found the will to move. She ran inside and called 911, but lost her voice when the operator answered. Who could possibly help her?

As her mother called for help, Bailey chased the cardinals through yard after yard, up and down the street. The child had found she could do bursts of speed up to 20 mph, and became more interested in experimenting with this than catching birds. Up and down she ran quickly becoming a quick smear of color leaving behind tiny but deep footprints in all the yards. When police and firemen arrived she absolutely thrilled by all the bright colors and flashing lights following her, and delighted in a game of tag with them.

She slipped like a slimy eel through nets, ropes and arms and laughed her head off still holding her favorite pillow. The rescue workers were at their whit's end just trying to figure out what this small blur was, let alone how to catch it. The neighborhood had gone nuts. Hannah was trying desperately to explain without being carted off herself and all her neighbors were shouting as well, some claimed she had an alien baby, other said that thing was a demon, and most wanted them to take the toddler the other side of the earth if possible.

Bailey slipped yet another capture attempt and did a hard turn into the alleyway behind the backyards. There she got stopped cold, tangled up in a wide net of flimsy looking but tough thread. She kicked and trashed like a caught fish, screaming for her mother at the top of her lungs. Hannah heard her screams and ran back through her house, to find a man in a perfectly trimmed black suit waiting in her living room.

"Mrs. Deckard, I'm agent Hanson. I'm sorry for the intrusion ma'am but this is rather important."

"My daughter," Hannah gasped, trying to get past him. He blocked her way but looked at her calmly.

"Is safe, we managed to grab her, she's perfectly fine."

"Oh thank God, where is…"

"She's out of the way, she's still angry and it's a bit dangerous to be close to her right now."

Hannah felt bile rise in her throat.

"What do you mean, she's dangerous?" her voice was deadly serious. Seeing any mother slip into 'mama lion' mode made any man cringe, and Agent Hanson was no exception.

"She's…why don't I just show you, come one, I'll take you to her."

Hanson showed her


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Bailey stared at the assortment of colored blocks in front of her. She wasn't playing with alpha-blocks; she had ten minutes left to arrange this confusing mass of hexagons and trapezoids into a certain pattern. And she was being bored into by the eyes of half a dozen researchers, all with pen to clipboards.

She glanced back and forth between the task and her audience, and heaved a sigh.

"Just try to do something Bailey." Someone said with no small hint of exasperation.

She sighed again and hung her head, then reached for the blocks. She'd gotten the small center down, but was doing little more than guessing to expand the shape. This had gotten much harder since they stopped showing her outlines of the shapes to make. A few of the scientists watching her were visibly pained. She was messing this up royally.

Time was beginning to run and the little girl rushed to finish the puzzle. A buzzer sounded and she yelled, tossing the blocks aside. Over a speaker, a loud and angry voice barked at her.

"Bailey! Don't you dare do that again!"

She was still on the edge of a tantrum but quashed it as well as a young child can. She knew full well what getting angry at her tests could cost her.

"Obstacle course! Now!"

Bailey's chin dropped to her chest and she got of the chair, dragging a well-worn velvet pillow with her. She hugged it close as she made her way through a set of doors into her 'room'. It was a huge circular pit, lined with steel panels and ringed by curved, bullet-proofed windows. Platforms were lifted from the floor and trapezes and rings were lowered. The obstacles lit up in a small variety of colors and flashed, showing her the path she had to take to pass.

Most of the course was ten feet above her head. A blank look came on her face. She sucked at the puzzles, and hated the needles, but at least this was something she could do. Another buzzer, but before it had even ended she had leapt up to the first platform and cleared two hoops. The course flashed and changed itself, to which the child responded with preternatural ease. She cleared seven foots gaps and moved through speed that athletes would envy.

And this wasn't even an effort. She must have not done that badly because Mr. Fury wasn't even trying to challenge her. Her body felt like it was crackling with energy and she could easily let muscle memory take over to monitor her 'fuel use'. Keep the po-tas-ium up to stay strong enough to jump and run, use 'C' go faster, but not too much or you'll run into the wall again. Make sure you have enough 'B' to keep everything going. Burn just a little 'K' to balance and some lu-tine to keep up with the lights.

The researchers at the windows watched her like hawks, notating every move while others kept a close eye on monitors showing her inner functions and heat signatures. The instruments were sensitive enough to show what muscles she was about to use. From one Maria Hill watched as well, much more reserved than the doctors and scientists. Some of the people studying her called her the 'key to humanity's dreams'. They wanted to harness her power and share it with the world, end so many problems. Maria was of two minds about this girl, she an aberration of nature, and a little girl who most certainly didn't deserve this fate.

Almost three years at SHIELD, she should be little more than a toddler. She looked six. She literally ate enough to feed a dozen men and through burned her food like wildfire through brush. And from what the scientists had discovered, she stored a finite amount of nutrients then her body consumed all else to fuel its unnatural growth.

The nutrients she stored she could burn at will, and produce superpowers that rivaled the some of the Avengers. But she was a loose cannon, a lot like Dr. Banner. Her tantrums were as destructive as some of the Hulk's calmer rampages. That was why she was often in this armored room. The walls already bore the strain of her rage, covered in dents and gouges that looked like some angry, mythical beast made them.

Most hoped the child would mellow with age, like most do. Maria was skeptical of that. Most children got worse once they hit their teens. The way Bailey was aging, puberty would be upon them in a few years.

Maria turned away and left the observation room, making her way up the stairs winding around the reinforced pit. SHEILD didn't often need to improve on their equipment but the outer walls bore several extra buttresses hastily added. A new room was already under construction. Bailey may outgrow this one soon.

Director Fury watched Bailey's progress from the very top of the pit, keeping a safe distance from the glass-covered opening. He eyed a plethora of monitors; nodding to Maria as she approached.

"She's still not doing well with cognitive testing…"

"She's a child, give it time." He cut her off.

Maria opened her mouth to say something else but thought better of it. It was hard to discuss the future of the child. Depending on how she developed she could end up as a member of the Avengers Team, or… some experiment hidden away her entire life.

Bailey's breathing was becoming labored now. Her small body used its energy too quickly. She had to start forcing herself to maintain the quick, fluid movements. Pumping the correct nutrients into the correct muscles at just the right time was getting harder and harder.

Very soon she missed a jump and caught her foot on the platform she was supposed to land on, tumbling forward to catch herself on a trapeze. Her mormentum sent it flying and she lost her grip and smacked into the far wall. For a split second she had some kind of spider like hold on the wall, then went skidding down several feet before falling away in a corkscrew and smashing into the floor. A violent, fast fall of nearly fifty feet to a six-year-old should be a death sentence.

Everyone in the obersevation rooms paused, staring down at the tiny, twisted body. Bailey didn't know the word 'fuck' yet. But she was certainly thinking along that line when she came too a minute later. She gurgled, then moved an arm to pry herself up. Her body took over for her, automatically tapping calcium and iron. A twisted and dislocated ankle turned itself around repaired the tendons. Sprained and pulled muscles were renewed, bruises beginning to blossom faded away, and some fractured ribs healed up. Within a few minutes Bailey could stand, she felt wobbly and dizzy from the fall, but her pain was gone and she could walk over to the wall and slump down against it.

The obstacle course was recalled and one of her handlers announced she could proceed to her afternoon lesson. She sighed again, grabbed her little pillow and trudged through the opened door. It'd probably be math, the only thing she was worse at than puzzles.

Geometry wasn't as hard as the division they'd been trying to teach her lately. And the problems were easy for her. She had to plot a safe course over high buildings, measuring the height, depth and width and then calculating how much force and momentum was needed. As she started on the last few her tutor told her she'd be doing some more medical tests after this.

Bailey slumped in her chair with a look like a wet cat's. More needles, more weird questions, more poking and prodding with ice-cold gloves and freaky white masks.

She was soon ushered through the white corridor into an examination room and left to wait on the new doctor.

"Try not to bite this one." Her handler said and as he left.

She grumbled and held her pillow tight to her chest. If this one had the good sense not to squash her stomach with cold hands he'd be fine. It seemed an hour she was waiting till the doors opened.

A man with dark hair just starting to go salt and pepper walked in. He had a square, kindly face with a few too many wrinkles for his age. He scrutinized her for a moment, but with a softer look than other doctors who seemed like they tried to peer past her to her innards.

"Hi Bailey." His voice was as soft as his look. Nothing passed between them for minute; she was waiting for him say why he was here. Finally she piped up.

"Hi." The word came out as a squeak.

"I'm Dr. Banner." he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, "You don't have to be scared."

"I'm not scared of you, I just don't like doctors." She snapped.

"That's understandable." Banner stayed at her level, speaking slowly.

"I'm here today because I think you and I might have something in common."

"Huh?" That didn't quite click with her. She didn't have anything in common… with anyone.

"I can do, strange things to. I want to do a few tests to see if we can do strange things for the same reason."

"What's your reason?"

Banner expected that question.

"I got injected with something, years ago, that changed me a lot. I was trying to make something to make soldiers stronger. It works, but a little too much. When I get angry, I get," he cracked a smile, how ridiculous this will sound even to a child, "very big, and very green. Nothing stops me and I tear through everything."

Bailey just sat blinking a moment.

"I dunno…"

"Its true," said Banner.

"No, I mean, the something in common. I don't lose control."

"What do you call your tantrums?"

Bailey glared at him.

"I'm not lecturing you." He stood up straight and walked over to a tray full of gauze, gloves and needles.

"One blood sample, that's all. And for all the rest you just have to sit still, ok?"

"Fiiiiiiine." She groaned.

Taking blood wasn't bad, but the couple of hours she had to spend lying on a gurney and not falling asleep so she could tell him she wasn't feeling anything as he pointed machine after machine at her was.

Finally he released her. It was past dinnertime and her stomach was growling loud enough to be heard across the room.

"What are they serving you tonight?" he asked.

Bailey grumbled as she dragged herself out of the room.

"What was that?"

"I said I don't know, they never tell me." With that she left.

A thick slab of Salisbury steak drowning in canned gravy, with mushy boiled peas and carrots, then raw celery and bananas. In portions large enough for two football players. The amounts she didn't mind, it was the food itself. Her food always seemed worse than the food everyone else got. She could she what everyone else ate around the cafeteria. They had some tasty looking baked potatoes and decent steaks, with fresh veggies and even French fries! She licked her lips to see the big, steaming, golden sticks of potatoes going by on trays tantalizingly close.

She couldn't remember if she'd ever had French fries, and she really wanted to try them. She sat at her big table with only her handler, eyeing the people moving past.

"Bailey, for the love of all that's holy, stop staring at the fries and eat your dinner."

She was hungry enough she didn't really care about the taste tonight, but took her sweet time eating. Her strict 'diet' set by her nutritionist forbid any fried foods, along with only certain allowed amounts of meats and eggs. No bacon, no mayo, only three eggs a day, and only poached, never had meat beyond lean chicken or beef, her starch intake was closely watched, no bread beyond breakfast, no cereal, rice only at lunch, and only wild rice, most meals were laden with boiled or fresh vegetables, and barely any fruit to keep sugar to a low. She'd never tasted sweets, or salty treats, or nuts, or candy, or gorged on a thick slab of watermelon, or torn into a good cob of corn.

A lot of her fantasies involved food, that and the big, open places she saw pictures of in lessons. Running around in an empty meadow with not a soul around her. No yelling, no schedules, no punishments, just play. Play and a huge picnic of all the things she'd never had waiting for whenever she got hungry.

She finished her meat, peas and carrots, and all but two bananas and a few sticks of celery. Claiming she was full she asked to go bed.

"Finished your bananas first."

Oh, right, the po-ta-si-um. She had plenty but ate nonetheless. Finally she was freed and trudged back to her room with her handler and couple guards flanking her. Once back a small door in the wall opened and she went into the tiny bathroom, brushing teeth and hair and using the toilet as she was told.

Then they opened her little sleeping capsule, a rectangular room not much bigger than a single person tent with a small mattress and one blanket. She crawled in and fluffed up her old friend, hugging it close before laying her head down.

Bedtime was the worst time. This was when she really knew how different she was. No matter how bad a person was, people didn't make them sleep in a two foot thick box at night. They didn't get mushy food and experimented on or made to jump through hoops. They didn't have only a pillow for a friend.

Sometimes while she lay there waiting for sleep she'd try to remember if she had a family. The foggiest non-memories were all she could recall, the smell of something tasty cooking on a stove while she sat on the floor, getting her pillow, chasing a red bird, and bouncing on someone's lap. She could see her mother if she though hard, it made her cry a little to remember mom. She always looked tired and sad. Was that why Bailey was here?


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Bailey never liked surprises. So it should have been obvious how she would react to the surprise party she walked into instead of a lesson. She clung to the ceiling light, eyes wide as frying pans, glaring molten hate at everyone below.

"Bailey, its ok, it just your 4th birthday party." Said Maria Hill.

"I'm 4?" her eyes crossed and looked down towards her brow.

"Yes, it's December, remember?" Maria offered up a plate of cookies.

Bailey took a good long look at the assortment of treats laid out on the table, and the researchers and tutors holding cups of punch, some with bight paper hats on their heads. Finally she let her legs drop, dangled a moment, then dropped to the floor.

"I can have these?" she pointed to the cookies.

"Yup, your nutritionist cleared it."

She snatched one from the plate and nibbled on it, moving over to the table.

"What are my limits?" she asked through cookie crumbs.

She knew the rules well now.

"You can have a max of 500 calories from everything here."

She shot the nutritionist a sidelong glance. The woman grinned and raised a punch glass. Bailey saw the bulge in her lab coat pocket from the flask she was spiking her glass with.

She ended up with a paper hat strapped to her head and stuck in a chair sucking on jolly ranchers and staring at the cake she couldn't have because one slice was well over her limit. 4 years old, and what was there to show for it? She looked nine, and her training was more intense than ever.

Less medical testing recently though, that was nice. There wasn't much more they could do short of dissecting her alive. She was still doing the gamma tests with Dr. Banner. He was about the only person in the place that didn't treat her like a…well she was a child so he didn't treat her like a…ok she could be pretty idiotic sometimes, well he was to nice to her.

The Dr. was politely chatting with some other guests slowly making his way over to the birthday girl.

"Well now; four years old." He said as he sat down, "how's it feel?"

"Odd." Bailey shrugged and sucked some more juice off her candy.

"Does it feel like it's been more than a year or less?" he wasn't joking. Bailey's concept of time was skewed to say the least.

"Both, kinda. I feel different in my muscles, but here," she pointed to her head, "the same."

"I worry about that sometimes." Banner pointed to her head as well.

"Your accelerated aging seems to be leaving your mind in the dust. But; sometimes you act like its actually your body that's behind."

"How you mean?" she asked as she snatched an extra cookie.

"Well, like on your obstacle course. There people who spend lifetimes training to do things like that, to move fast and solve problems and react to their environment as it changes, and yet you put them to shame. They can't calibrate your courses fast enough to provide you with a real challenge anymore. I think your cognition is…" she could see the intense number crunching going in his head, " you must be completing a reactionary thought at least every thousandth of a second."

Bailey's eyes glazed over. She always zoned out when she was trying figure something out. It happened a lot recently.

"I don't know," she finally said, "I don't really think." She lifted her head and stared at the ceiling light, "I just move. I think my body's smarter than my brain."

"That's not entirely unfounded, in some ways all our bodies are smarter than us. In what we need to live at least and not just food." He grinned and tapped at the plate of cookies.

"I don't care about food as much as people think." She growled and scooted away.

"Why do you think they do Bailey?" he gave an earnest look, the kind most people wear when they try to convince someone else they're not lying. It was his way of asking her to tell him what she didn't like telling anyone.

"Because I'm hungry all the time." She snipped.  
"Why?"

"I don't know, it feels like the second I eat something its gone, I don't get to really taste anything because I have to get it in me."

"Is part of your appetite just taste?" he asked, picking up a chocolate brownie.

"I guess. I only really think about food when I see it, or smell it." She chewed up the last of the candy and stared at the table a minute.

"I don't like being denied what other people can just have." She scowled as she spoke, digging her fingers into the table edge.

"Until last year I didn't know what chocolate was like."

"You've had chocolate." Banner took a bite of his brownie " Before you came to SHEILD."

"I don't remember that!" she snapped, banging the table. Everyone in the room immediately froze. They stared like deer in the headlights and Agent Hill stepped forward.

"Do you need to go into your room for awhile?" she was stern, but a little worry showed.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Bailey pulled back with her hands up, squishing herself down into her seat. "No tantrums."

"Good. 10 months without a meltdown, we want to keep it that way."

Banner was the only one in the room who hadn't flinched.

"They've had worse than your old tantrums, trust me." He winked at her.

"We may have but we prefer not to deal with hers." Maria muttered, now keeping a close eye on Bailey.

"That's another thing I don't like. Everyone's afraid of my tantrums and they, think that I'm stupid. They always look at me like that when I do something wrong, something that's easy for them. Makes me hungry. So I'm hungry a lot."

"Comfort eating. A lot of people do that when they're upset. And they don't think your stupid Bailey." His kind face softened even more, "I think they expect a little more than your ready to deliver. You grow fast in body, they aren't accounting for your mind, and your personality. You identity is struggling to keep up."

"My identity?" she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head.

"Your identity grows too, it's not just your name or where you were born. Its what and whom you think you are. You, really don't seem to have a clue."

Bailey snorted.

"I could have told you that, and I can't tell you anything Dr."

"You don't give yourself enough credit Bailey. You should think more about it. I'll ask you some more questions when we see each other next."

Bailey sighed.

"Alright, alright. Thinking is about all I can do on my own."

"I don't like this very much." Bailey sat squeezing her arms and legs as close together as possible, the further from the two giant sets of metal instruments, the better.

"It won't hurt you. It just looks scary." Banner stood well away, behind a set of screens, calibrating it.

"Why does everything you work with look scary?"

Banner chuckled.

"Good question." He said. The machine hummed and tiny arcs started coming off the metal arms.

"I really don't want to be sitting here!" Bailey started edging off the table.

"Hold on just a second!" Banner threw up a hand then came right over to her. "Its safe, see, I just need a few seconds of information."

"What is this doing?"

"It's exposing you to a very same amount of gamma radiation."

Bailey's eyes went wide as frying pans.

"But that's…"

"Nothing like the levels that changed me, please trust me."

The displays beeped and he turned off the machine, and she was on the other side of the room in a millisecond.

"Haven't you already figured out I'm not like you!" she yelled.

"I'm sorry. I…" he paused then, stepped over to her and knelt down to her height, "SHEILD wants to know if you have any kind of resistance to gamma waves. They understand that the radiation isn't what gave you your abilities."

"Why do they care about that?"

"They want to know what your limits are."

"How does that help anything? How does anything anyone does to me help?"

She slammed a fist into the wall behind her, leaving a small dent. The beginnings of a bruise appeared on the side of her hand. She looked at it, used a small bit of iron and the unhappy mark faded away. She looked at the back of her hand.

"You know it tried to get rid of it."

"What, your mark?" Banner took her hand, examining the light brown lines on it.

"Awfully intricate for a birthmark."

"I know. Everyone used to stare at it like it was the most dangerous piece of me. Now I guess they're kind of used to it. Except…" she drifted off, and spoke like she was talking in her dreams, "except when they get scared of me. Then they look at my hand again. Like its poison, it has fangs filled with death."

She looked up at him, eyes glassy with tears she always tried to hold back.

"I'm not death."

"I know how you feel. People tip toe around me too." Banner put a hand to her cheek, "But that's why I asked you to think about who you are, because you're not a boogey girl. When you know what you are, besides the monster that everyone fears, that monster doesn't rule you."

Bailey sighed, still struggling against sobs.

"Calm down, clam down. Hey, I think I have something that might help you."

"Huh?"

"You know the Avengers right?"

"Yeah, that team you were with, you stopped the aliens before I was born." She sniffed and rubbed her nose, but a tiny smile was growing on her face.

"You watch those old videos a lot don't you?"

"Its about the only thing they let watch more than ten minutes of." She cracked a full smile.

"All of this, this training, these lessons, the tests, all of it is so you can be one of us. They want to know if you can sustain gamma radiation in case you have to deal with it in higher levels. I'm pretty tolerant to it while I'm the 'other guy' but I lack a good deal of finesse."

Bailey looked excited for a second, then something occurred to her.

"What if I'm no good?"

"I doubt that, I really, really doubt that. One more thing, I heard a couple of the others are coming in soon for some more in depth training."

"Who?"

"Don't know, but hang in there ok? Your life is not pointless, all right? May be hard to believe but there's always someone who can understand what you're going through, and if you can't find one of them you can talk to me, alright?"

Bailey nodded and wiped off her eyes.

"Head long to your lesson now, ok?"

She trotted out the door and he turned to the preliminary results.

"Gamma may not have made her, but…"

He looked over the information, and shrugged.

"Doesn't affect her like most people but I certainly wouldn't shoot her up with my serum any time soon."

"So she's not immune?" Fury walked in, expression inscrutable.

"No, she's not quite the super soldier you were hoping for."

"Close enough. Agents Barton and Romanov will be here soon. We'll see what they think of her."

"She's a five or six year old in the body of a nine year old. She's aging twice as fast as she should, and only appears to be speeding up. She can barely comprehend her day-to-day existence. I wouldn't call her a prime candidate." Banner kept his glued to his work.

"You think she should be back in Savannah? Tearing up the city willy nilly?"

"I think she should have an actual childhood, an actual life. You don't keep a person in a steel pit all their life."

"I don't like sticking her in there every night either, ok? If she proves she can grow up and control herself, I'll help her pick her first apartment. But she has to show us that we don't need to protect other people from her."

Banner glanced up at him but kept his attention on the data.

"You didn't see her when she came in. Can you imagine a toddler only a few months old kicking a hole through steel three inches thick? How about that same kid racing around the place, breaking the sound barrier and everything not bolted down? Eleven agents had to be hospitalized after we brought her in. Between everybody she broke nearly every bone in the human body without even trying. That was when she was a baby Dr."

Banner finally looked up.

"I know, I don't deny she's dangerous. I just don't think…"

"Wait till after Barton and Romanov work with her for awhile. I asked you in because I knew you could hit a few chords. But they could give her some much needed discipline." Finality was the only thing that could describe Fury's tone.

"She doesn't have that already? She's grown up like a Spartan."

"She still needs to fight like one." Said Fury.


End file.
